Irony Maiden
by BF110C4
Summary: Daria Stark was lost in her own world. It took a tragedy to see how her actions affected the world, it took an even greater sacrifice for her to do something about it.
1. Chapter 00: Daria Stark

Irony Maiden 00:

Part 1: Daria Stark

Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV and Viacom. Iron Man and other Marvel Comics characters are owned by The Walt Disney Company.

This is fan fiction written for entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

Daria always loved to wake up to the smell of strong fresh coffee, a habit that she had developed during her years at the M.I.T. and then reinforced during her post grade at Raft. Knowing this _Amy _had left one cup ready at the coffeemaker inside her room/library in the Penthouse of the Stark Industries Tower, and apparently already disposed of Robert.

A fast query on the matter revealed that her caretaker had discovered a digital camera on Robert's belongings, and rather than disturb her in the middle of the night, _Amy_ had interchanged the intimate photos with some less than wholesome ones from his webcam, then uploaded even less flattening comments on his Facebook and Tweeter, before using the penthouse defense systems to chase him away half naked to the basement and from there to a service hatch that would open in the middle of Central Park. Gigolos today were lacking professionalism it seemed.

While drinking her Lungo, Daria opened her mail, sorting them by sender and priority. On the inbox reserved to her many businesses with the DoD there were the new weapon requirements of the Army, Navy, Air Force and SHIELD for the fiscal year. Scrolling through them, she started sending the simpler ammunitions and armor projects to the appropriate teams of R&D of the company, usually with some suggestions, or in a couple of times an attached file from previous projects that might be useful.

Then, after sorting the small fries, she examined one of the projects that attracted her interest; there was the Supersonic Tactical Transport, she already had a team working on a prototype for SHIELD, and once the five-engine Quinjet had its FAA certification done it would equip fast reaction teams for global deployment.

There was a damage report from the Special Duty Team under General 'Thunder' Ross; it seemed like he had managed to destroy some of her Heavy Duty Sonic Cannons for anti-bunker and city wide riot control; the good old soldier had left her sound-busters worse than if a gorilla had a disagreement with a Daimler Smart, and then… irradiated it with Gamma Radiation? Weird, well he always paid cash upfront so he could do as he wanted, as long as he didn't ask for devolution.

And there were at least three different missile requests from the Army and Navy for the next five to ten years; the former for lighter, antipersonnel and anti-bunker rockets to substitute current unguided MLRS; the later needed both next generation SSMs to replace Tomahawks, and SAMs compatible with AEGIS cruisers.

Asking _Rita _to start her workshop's holographic projector, she got the digital blueprints of the Quinjet prototype and then manipulating the light model separated the maneuver thrusters, which used the patented Repulsor Technology for non Newtonian movement, from the rest. She had already dismissed the need of an explosive payload for the missile; the Repulsors could be easily overloaded for a decent sized blast. Then she started to manipulate the Repulsor tridimensional image removing shielding and redundant systems, throwing those to a virtual trashcan. The strategic positioning of the Repulsor's projectors would allow it both long distance in excess of 500 kilometers and 60,000 meters at Match 4.5, while being able to turn on a penny.

And for the teeth, well there was a reason why the Quinjet needed all five engines, and it was not for a lack of thrust, the real problem was that when the repulsor rays crossed each other would provoke a nasty amount of energetic feedback followed by a huge explosion. By directing the projectors at each other and provoking an overload to the palladium capacitor it would created an explosion going from big to almost nuclear. And careful manipulation of those same components in the instant before the explosions they could chose between a concentrated blast capable of going through a mountain, a series of small explosions that would carpet kilometers in deadly shockwaves, or a huge unfocused detonation that would be measured in kilotons.

All in all a product capable of being used by all services and under many different circumstances, She left to _Rita_ the job of adding more conventional trinkets like gyroscopes and control surfaces to the design, she was capable of doing the correct aerodynamic calculations to do it and pragmatically enough to use only Stark produced parts without any further input until preliminary testing began. After that she sent the blueprints to Quinn alongside a small note detailing the uses and needs of the devise, with attachments to Barch, O'Neill and Rowe.

Now that the small stuff was over, it was time to start her real job. Going to her studio on the penthouse she asked _Amy_ to open the skylights, she wanted to do this with the contaminated cool breeze of New York, it would set her on the mood. Getting her notebook out of the desk - she would never use the computer for this particular activity, she started writing:

Inside the store four young girls that Melody recognized as the Runway models that she met on last week's Crystal Boutique Fashion Parade, but they were quite different from the catty airheads that would criticize her clothing and didn't now what a textbook was for. Now they were pushing a heavy cart full of clothes, with no concern for their appearance and a thousand-yard stare. The single most frightening thing however was the absolute silence in sharp contrast from the rumor mongering and idiotic little giggles that followed them everywhere, even the bathroom.

She would need to ask _Amy_ to contact the Escort Service for a new man for tonight, or maybe a woman, Robert had cold feet…


	2. Chapter 00: Quinn Stark

Irony Maiden 00:

Part 2: Quinn Stark

Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV and Viacom. Iron Man and other Marvel Comics characters are owned by The Walt Disney Company.

This is fan fiction written for entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

When the latest mail of her sister arrived Quinn Stark was in the loft of her Malibu mansion, checking alongside _Amy_ the current trends of spring wear on one of her holographic projectors. In more than one way that method was superior to the Runaway Catwalks of Milan and Paris, there you couldn't tell the model to freeze, nor could you take her dress and measure it on yourself, perfectly fitted. It was the perfect tool for fashion.

She considered a personal triumph to be considered not as smart as her sister despite both graduating early from their respective colleges, Daria from MIT and Raft and herself from Browning and UCLA-Peppermint College Artificial intelligence program. That way she actually had the time and opportunity to perfect her technology and to have a social life, both at her own pace.

She started shuffling her own weekly agenda on her virtual tablet while _Amy_ read her the mails by order of priority; her nights were already booked solid with a special invitation for a concert of Dazzler for Saturday, and a fundraiser the next day. The rest of the week she would be dating the Three J's, the offensive triad of the Miami Dolphins. It was so much fun having three big, bad, mean, and lean NFL players at her beck and call and the thrill of knowing that she could make them carry a scrunchie and that they would actually fight for it was worth the not so positive reviews by paparazzi, especially since she knew they weren't going to caught her in a foursome in the immediate future, or ever… Yuck.

She then arrived to her sister's mail, as always resembling an automated E-mail without synthetic pleasantries, straight to the point. There were the usual business, suggestions for funding for R&D for this quarter, human resources complains, and other minutia of the corporative life before reaching the latest brainstorming session, and this time Daria had a winner.

This missile would be a hit, capable of being used as either a SAM or a SSM from the same delivery system, and light enough that with some modifications could become airborne. And the multifunctionality would make it ideal for light expeditionary forces like Marines or Airborne Divisions. The entire weapon was its own payload, with enough power for any reasonable, and some not so reasonable, jobs in the armed forces. In fact as an AAM it was almost too powerful, capable of downing a B-52 Squadron with a near miss.

Not that the attack jocks would complain about being able to use their ordnance to blow their bigger brothers out of the sky.

Using the basic repulsors thrusters meant for the Quinjet meant that they already had a production line ready for a technological base 100% certified. They could present a prototype months before their competition could even have basic proposals for any of the different requirements of the DoD.

Now before sending this to R&D to start puzzling together a prototype Quinn did a few modifications on some of the guidance systems proposed by _Rita_, Daria was a certified genius when it came to physics and applied engineering, but as always she was a little too careless when it came to programming.

They could actually save a pretty penny here and there without reducing the quality an iota mostly using the control chips for parallel processing the different fire modes instead of just bolting a miniature supercomputer on the head, making a little more room for radar and IR sensors.

Know that she thought about it, hadn't Reed Richards said something about how radiation could be used as a way to detect submerged shipwrecks sitting on the deep ocean? She had been forced by her mom to go to that particular conference when Daria had that awful rash, and it would be nice to get something out of those long hours of utter boredom. What if they used the concentrated palladium radiation from the repulsors to 'see' both the contours of the land and the sleek lines of an F-22. If worked it would be a hit with the Navy; they always loved to show off the Air Force.

Smiling again she opened the holographic keyboard to write a reply with the improvements and suggestions for the design, and once that was done she went to the phone with Tiffany Blum-Decker. The fashion fundraiser wouldn't be done by itself, and frankly she didn't quite trust the harebrained heiress to not get distracted by something shiny.


	3. Chapter 00: Anthony DeMartino

Irony Maiden 00:

Part 3: Anthony DeMartino

Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV and Viacom. Iron Man and other Marvel Comics characters are owned by The Walt Disney Company.

This is fan fiction written for entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

"So tell me, how else is Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn Yūsuf ibn Ayyūb known?"

"Saladin!"

Anthony was happy hearing the enthusiasm of the children, nothing like teaching students happy and willing to learn. Unlike those dunderheads of the oversexed jocks he had been forced to teach back in the States these kids didn't see the education as a privilege to be abused but as a gift earned by their fathers with sweat and a responsibility for the future.

His decision to sign up for Teachers Without Borders had been had been less a meditated option and more of a fit of rage when that idiot of Tommy Sherman basically got away with not even taking the effort to cheat his exams but to simply had the entire school board rewrite his scores to A+ and basically steal a scholarship from another far more worthy student than him.

He didn't have it easy when he arrived to the shack they used to call a school; he lacked books, a blackboard, and even a roof, not to mention that he was forced to basically beg for the parents to let their children come to school. It was during that time that the first school had been firebombed and he had been forced to teach the children in a hastily improvised tent.

It took a lot of effort to gain the trust of the people and during a lot of time he had no more help that the one of Ho Yinsen, a doctor who, due to a convoluted story that included Chinese communists, a Soviet smelting plant and a black one-eyed man with an awful attitude, ended settling in as the town doctor. He had been the one who had given him medical assistance to the stranger after the first time he had been assaulted by men who didn't agree for an infidel to teach children how to write and read, he had allowed his daughter to become the school's nurse and teaching assistant, and after a few years he had been the one who had approached him to marry said daughter.

As soon as he dismissed class he was going straight to the old man's hospital to help with the ever growing influx of refugees from the escalating border fights. At least he had been learning a lot about dealing with trauma and bizarre ways to cheat death. He would never have learned to build a pacemaker out of a car battery?

And then if he could squeeze a little free time he would visit Scheherezade (a weird name even in this area, but Yinsen had liked the story) and their little Anthony Yinsen DeMartino, the little tike was about to learn how to walk, and he desired to see that, especially after missing his first word by a matter of minutes.

"So after the battle of Hattin he…" Anthony was interrupted by a low-pitched "whump" sound. It was followed by an explosion. And then another, and another…

"Take cover under your desks. Remember what we practiced, as soon as the militia gives the all clear we are…" A shell landed through the tin roof and he knew no more.

…

… …

He had been better, Anthony decided, he could barely open his left eye, and his throat was feeling sorer than the last time he had been with the flu, but at least he was alive.

He could hear men speaking in Turkish, however they were nowhere near Turkey and around here they didn't contract that many mercenaries, cheaper to use locals. "He's an American. Could be of use; put him in the truck with the medical supplies."

After he said that he felt two strong arms holding him and dragging his battered body towards one of the trucks. As he had been trained so many years ago he didn't resist the abduction and as soon as he could speak he would accredit himself and see if the TSF or his family could arrange for a ransom.

"We found a Chinese old man and a woman on the gutter they call a hospital, what do you think they're doing here?"

"Could be Chinese intelligence trying to spy on the Ten Rings. Kill them all." As soon as he heard those words Anthony threw caution to the win and tried to get up.

"YOu daNM basTArds. I wiLl not ALlow you to toUCh my wiFE… The rest of his rant was cut as one of the men knocked him down with the butt of his Stark Mark 12 rifle. As he was being dragged from the field hospital he could see the broken bodies of his students, his children, and their screams above the sound of automatic fire.

The last sight of his home was the word in one broken and burned signpost.

"Gulmira"


	4. Chapter 01: Family woes

Irony Maiden

Chapter 01: Family woes

Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV and Viacom. Iron Man and other Marvel Comics characters are owned by The Walt Disney Company.

This is fan fiction written for entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

"Helen Stark…"

"I have heard her being called many different things, a visionary, a genius, even an American Patriot."

"I prefer to call her mom."

"When our father Jake Stark died most people thought that it was the end of an era. An era that started fifty years earlier when Howard 'Mad Dog' Stark patented his first invention and heralded the technological wonders that help defeat fascism, and that years later contributed to keep the cold war for heating up… Helen frankly disagreed with that assessment."

"In those dark years she refused to let Stark Industries fade away, fought to bring forth some of the brightest minds in her generation to complete the marvels that our father had left unfinished and let Reagan's Star Wars program become the shining star that the Russians simply couldn't surpass. At the same time she restructured the company into the industrial behemoth it is nowadays."

"But for us her most important achievement was to nurture us, not letting the illusions of money and power poison our thoughts, always pushing us towards our full potential. And once our education was complete she guided us to finally take part of the Stark legacy, her legacy."

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present this year's Apogee Award to Mrs. Helen Stark, a great businesswoman, visionary and most important of all a great mother."

With that the two young women received their mother in the middle of the cheers of the crowd.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

"Miss Stark! Excuse me, Miss Stark!" The women leaving the lobby of the hotel were more surprised to hear a reporter than the fact that said reporter was looking for them. At least she was alone, without a camera, or even worse a news crew.

"Sandi Griffin, Val Magazine. Can I ask you a couple of questions?" Val Magazine was to fashion the same that Playboy was to horny men; a niche magazine that frequently, and surprisingly, wrote articles of extremely high quality and of diverse thematic.

In other words the magazine's name, alongside the fashionable reporter who used it, pushed all of Quinn's buttons at the same time.

"She's cute; is all right?" The very same instant they heard the name of the magazine both of the older women resigned themselves to accompany the redheaded girl to what could be a boring Q&A session.

"All you've been called the Medici of our time. What do you say to that?"

"Absolutely ridiculous. We are a family of builders not of bankers." Helen warily answered, she didn't know history as well as Daria and she didn't want to fall in a pitfall.

"And what do you say about the other nickname given to your family, the Merchants of Death?"

"That's not bad." Answered Daria as her companions cringed; there were many reasons Daria didn't offered half as many interviews as the other two, but they easily resumed as a simple fact. Daria didn't suffer fools gladly.

"Let me guess. Berkeley?" She asked, her glasses shining with their HUD display already showing the answer via Amy before the reporter could answer. "Brown, actually."

"Well, Ms. Brown, it's an imperfect world, but it's the only one we've got. I guarantee you, the day weapons are no longer needed to keep the peace, I'll start making bricks and beams for baby hospitals."

"Rehearse that much?" The reporters answer however did bring a smile to her face. "Every night in front of the mirror before bedtime."

Then she continued with her tirade. "My grandfather had a philosophy: 'Peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy.'"

"That's a great line coming from the guy's family selling those sticks to everyone and their dog, a lot of people would also call that war profiteering."

The last part strung a cord. Daria wasn't trying anymore to play word games or to continue playing with the reporter. "Tell me, do you plan to report on the millions we've saved by advancing medical technology or kept from starvation with our intelli-crops? I'm guessing no, for you is always guns, guns, guns, that kind of obsession for things that go bang in the night is perfect for selling magazines, isn't it?"

"You ever lose an hour of sleep your whole life?" Sandi keep asking the girl as she furiously walked away from the conversation, her mother hot in her heels.

Quinn meanwhile approached the blonde reporter, intending to do as much damage control as she could. "Sorry about that, my sister is not, how can I put it? She dislikes people ignoring most of the good stuff the company does and fixates in what is in the end a limited division of Stark Industries. So why don't we go to the bar and I can give you a more detailed interview while we drink something?"

Outside the lobby, in one of the gardens mother and daughter were having their own conversation.

"Daria, would it hurt you to be a little more polite with reporters? That kind of outburst is self-defeating and hurts the company in the long run."

"So the company is what worrying you? I didn't saw you complaining too hard about the war profiteering part. Guess you don't care."

"As you said yourself, the family business is to bring peace to the world, and that means that sometimes people will misunderstand the motivation of your work."

"As if I had a choice for my line of work, or have you forgotten that you brought me to the company as an 'intern' before I could graduate from Raft via remote education? Yet I didn't saw you complaining about Quinn and I finishing MIT and Browning years before most people get their high school diploma."

"Daria you know how many problems we were having at the time, if the helicarrier project went overboard we would have been forced to do some serious personnel cuts. For all the hype about our R&D labs you still were able to do ten times the work they did just in time. And you finished your career via remote education, in fact you developed Raft's remote education program."

"That's so like you Helen, always the letter of the deal, never the spirit. I'm going to bed, got a plane to catch tomorrow. Good Night." Helen could only see her eldest daughter hurriedly walk towards the hotel, barely restraining the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

"Good morning. It's 7:00 a.m." A female voice said to the guest in the luxurious suite.

"The weather in Malibu is 72 degrees with scattered clouds." A cursory examination of the room would find that the only person in there was in the bed asleep as a rock.

"The surf conditions are fair with waist-to-shoulder high lines. High tide will be at 10:52 a.m." A more careful examination then would hear that the voice is coming from the beyond-latest generation laptop in the middle of the room and conclude that is nothing more than a preprogramed alarm.

A groggy voice then came from the bed. "Why are you telling me the surf conditions _Amy_ if you know I don't do surf?"

Everyone who then heard the answer would no longer believe the voice to be something as mundane as an alarm.

"Well Daria, Quinn said that you might appreciate a hunk or two in the morning that you do not need to pay for, also I'm the fun A.I., this is expected of me." Before Daria could comment about either Quinn's barb or the idea of a fun A.I. a second voice joined the fray. "Says the glorified secretary, I guess that telling the hour like an alarm clock is the full extension of your capabilities."

"_Rita_, _Amy_. Stop arguing right now." Daria groaned, in retrospective it had been a really bad idea from both Quinn and herself to program their social-butler and technical assistant A.I.'s to reproduce the constant fighting of their late aunts alongside their sense of humor.

However she didn't think that there was anything or anyone in the world as useful as they were. _Rita_ was designed from the ground up to use its powerful physics engine and gigantic engineering library to assist in the production of practical tech, doing in a matter of minutes the millions of calculations needed to transform preliminary models into fully functioning prototypes ready for advanced testing using off-the-shelf parts and logging the most efficient methodology for mass production. On the other hand _Amy_ was tasked to manage the social footprint of the sisters, something that sounded a lot less complex than the stuff done by her digital sister, but in reality she controlled all of the influx of information that existed on the Stark family via the social networks and internet. She could and would leak false or true rumors to MySpace, Tweeter and Facebook and subtly manipulate public opinion as well as hiding whatever vices they wanted to remain hidden. The level of abstract thought needed to do so made Daria respect her sister's superior social and programing skills.

And talking about her little sister… "_Rita_, please hack the hotel database and send an order for a hangover cure to the bar, have them bring it to Quinn's suite. I'm sleeping another hour before preparing myself for Stacy's arrival. And be discreet." They had the tacit and unspoken agreement that if Quinn didn't brought attention to Daria's use of escorts to keep her bed warm at night then she wouldn't do the same with Quinn's drinking issues. For experience she knew that if Rita detected her mother waking up early she would abort the order without further instructions.

While they would never say out loud each sister hopped that the constant ribbing done to the other would eventually force them to seek help. However until now there was no such luck.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

Two hours later Daria was already up and talking business while waiting for the arrival of her Air Force liaison, usually she would have gone with either a videoconference or a chat but this time was using a phone out of deference. "Claire good morning, how's the climate on Baxter Building, are Reed and Sue still keeping you awake at night?"

"No, this time it seems that Johnny's teased a little too much Ben and they had a bit of a fight, they rattled the walls a bit, and I think the earthquake was Ben hitting the ground at one point or another, nothing serious but you know how much noise they can make when they play like that. At least is still less noisy than some of the stuff my previous roommates did."

"Those leeches you called roommates were something if you consider a fight between a walking boulder and a flying match to be better. Now what can you tell me about the Pollock?"

"The price is raising, there's another buyer for 'The Springs'. They're offering thirty million for the neighborhood, and I'm guessing they're planning to make a mall where it stands."

"Pollock is not my favorite artist, but my publishing house could use the tax deductions and I can't miss a chance to give the finger to a mall so take budget of, lest say a hundred million and get me the block, whatever money is left after that use it to get settlements with the neighbors, kick out the hipsters and if there is anyone left anyone with a good reason to stay then repair their apartments so they match Pollock's.

"Daria a hundred million is too…"

"Too little money? Make it three hundred then, we'll use the free space as a museum, get a Siqueiros or two loaned from Mexico and see if one or two of your friends are willing to loan pieces too, the rest round it up with my personal collection. Save the best space to your work."

"I, I see. I'll start making the arrangements for it."

"Oh, and don't forget inviting Ben and Sue to the grand opening, you can even make a double date. If Johnny wants to go tell him he is still banned from all museums in the state of New York for his last stunt. Or better yet, to avoid him crashing the inauguration anyway just buy him a ticket for Johnny Blaze's suicidal stunts. The morons that go to those shows won't mind being set on fire."

"And what about you Daria, aren't you coming to the inauguration? You can't use the full agenda excuse this time, there's not a set date yet."

"And be there with all those hipsters, rich guys trying to look cultured and so called artists who can barely draw but still can snuff other, more sincere works such as yours? No thanks; I'll go some other day, probably when it's closed off for maintenance or something like that." Then an E-mail icon on her glasses illuminated, reading the highlights she added. "Claire, Helen and Quinn are waiting for me for breakfast; I let Amy set up the details. See you when I'm back from Afghanistan."

"See you Daria, be careful. That place is dangerous."

"Don't worry, the military likes their toys too much for me getting a bu-bu, is going to be a challenge for me getting free of my nannies long enough to reach the latrines. See you later." That said, the call ended and Daria went to her mother's room for a quick private breakfast.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **

"And Daria, could you please do a couple of feelers about any other future needs for the Army? You know what your dad always said, 'A general might order, but is the sergeant who does', so please keep an ear on the ground, that way we might steal a march from our competitors." Helen said as she drank her coffee. "Don't worry mom, I'll pass a questionnaire to the grunts and I'll even throw a bulletproof vest with every fifth ambush."

As usual their breakfast were almost exclusively business only, on the flipside casual dinners were considered family time and shop talk was frowned upon; which neatly explained why they seldom had any dinners which didn't require long dresses.

"Young lady you shouldn't mock the hardships the soldiers suffer for us. If you really don't want to go to the semi-official unveiling of the Jericho then you might want to join the Official Cocktail in DC?"

With that both Daria and Quinn grimaced, when they saw the schedule that Tim O'Neill prepared for the Jericho's presentation to the world at large they had an honest talk of who would do each task. One of them would be forced to stay an entire week in one of the most dangerous and boring locations of the planet, presenting the Jericho in live fire trials and then would do a tour to the maintenance depots where Stark-tech was repaired to see that their quality standards were hold. Considering the sheer amount of such depots in the country is was going to be a backbreaking job. On the other hand the other was going to be their mother's wingman during the political show and tell that would follow; explaining the politicians in very small words how Jericho works and why it's good for the soldiers to have it. That, while bothersome would still be better than the privations that the trip would entail, but then they discovered that on the guest list both Eric Schrecter the Second and Alexander Graham Hammer would be part of the entire event and suddenly the dust, bored soldiers and bloodthirsty insurgents looked a lot better.

In the end Daria bite the bullet and volunteered to the Afghanistan job because she was better at hardware than Quinn, worse than her in politics, and because she wanted to see if her tour unveiled enough information on the Soviet War in Afghanistan for a new Melody Power's book. That she would miss the clumsy seduction attempts of Graham and the Erik's effort to discredit any member of the family with the objective to gain the title of C.E.O. or at least throw their way his share of work was only a happy coincidence.

"No need to bring out the heavy artillery mom, I'll be good and while I'm there I probably going to casually mention the Air Force that I'm developing a counter to the Palladium guidance system, and that in a couple of months we could have a solution so that the F-22 is once more invisible and ready to massacre ground pounders and attack planes at will."

"And do you have that technology ready for that kind of boasts? We do have a reputation to uphold." Daria shook her head. "Not me, but Quinn has been working on that."

The redhead elaborated. "I already can use a repulsor to scramble the radiation and spoil target solutions of the Jericho's submunitions, the problem is the size of the affected object. Something of the size of a predator is going to need both an independent power source and at least two repulsors to work. Frankly the only plane that won't need a full rebuild is our Quinjet, and that's because is already filled with repulsors and got its own nuclear battery. Which in the end means that we'll do a lot of conversions in our hangars in the near future; nothing beats creating our own demand."

Amy then interrupted. "Sorry to interrupt, but Lieutenant Rowe is waiting Daria in the lobby. I already took the freedom to text her to wait for you to finish your breakfast but security scans report that she is either at the verge of cardiac arrest or is under effect of at least 350mg of caffeine."

"I guess that's my cue to leave."

Helen rose from her seat and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Have a good trip dear."

"Bye Daria, try not to do anything particularly embarrassing, at least not when cameras can see you. Oh, and by the way I packed an additional suitcase with the latest in desert fashion. And before you complain those can be used with those big boots you seem to favor in college."

"You mean that I can use my Doc Martens in public meetings without being vetted by mom?"

"As long as you use the brown ones with the beige clothes and the black ones with the grey dress suit. And I already uploaded the designer's data on your glasses, so if a reporter asks tell him all that instead of kicking he with those boots, at least the first time. Oh, and by the way you ought Sandi Griffin an interview."

"I'll see what I can do about the interview and using the cue card you hacked into my glasses, but I make no promises regarding me kicking someone. There are limits to my self-control." With that she went to her room, a faint smile on her lip.

** I ** II ** III ** IV **


End file.
